


John: The end.

by Scarfie_and_Hedgehog



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Plotting, Revenge, Torture, machinations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-12
Updated: 2015-09-03
Packaged: 2018-01-01 06:06:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1041250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarfie_and_Hedgehog/pseuds/Scarfie_and_Hedgehog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John doesn't meet Sherlock and just goes limping around the city of London. The end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Mike and John in the park](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/240598) by badwolfsherloki-d and savejuliet. 



> John: Who would want me for a flatmate?  
> (Mike smiles)  
> John: What?  
> Mike: Oh, I just remembered a joke.  
> John: oh...

Mike: hey would you like to go get a cuppa mate? there is a lot to catch up on.  
John: no thanks mike. i should be getting on...... you know things to do....  
john trails off. mike nods and makes an indistinct good bye sound and moves off. john, continues his lonely walk in the park.  
that night john goes back to his small smelly flat and contemplates just ending it all. there is no point in living. the war is over. no one cares. his parents are dead, and harry would probably be glad he was gone. really? who would notice the passing of his life? but for some reason he doesn't. he doesnt pull the trigger, he doesnt swallow and he doesnt kick the chair. no for the next few months it is the same routine. he goes home after wandering around london hoping for something to happen, and he tries to do it. he struggles, and every night he crawls into bed in one piece. then, something changes.

he is passing by st. bart's hospital when all of a sudden a tall man with dark curly hair and striking features wearing a big dark coat sprints into the hospital carrying what appears to be a riding crop and microscope slide. john, bewildered stares after him. confused, john remembers that he has not yet had a cup of tea yet today and if he doesnt get caffeine soon he will have a major headache. as he orders he contemplates how mundane his life has become. he decides he is finally ready. reaching into the breast pocket of his coat he pulls out the bottle of sedative that he has kept on him since he returned from the war.  
with a firm resolution he adds the whole bottle to his fresh steaming cup of tea. gingerly, he sits at an out door table and begins to sip the tea hoping that the sedative will kick in and he can finally find his release.

that is until the drink in his hand is knocked to the floor as the tall man comes rushing back past him, bumping his arm. the drugged tea spills all over john and the pavement. john, outraged, jerks straight.  
john: HEY YOU! WATCH WHERE YOU ARE GOING! (the man turns around) YOU CANT JUST GO RUNNING AROUND ALL WILLY......  
John falters and all goes black just before he hits the pavement.

The next thing John hears is an intermittent regular beeping in his ears.  
John: SHIT!  
He opens his eyes just as a nurse enters the pale and oppressively clean hospital room.  
Nurse: Oh good you are awake. The doctors finally got you stable but they were unsure if you would pull through. You really are quite lucky. If that man hadn't told us what it was you had taken, it is possible you would have died. Really it was quite ingenious how he figured it out...  
John wasn't really listening to her prattle, he was more concerned with the fact that after all he had been through he had been unable to complete his one goal. That is until she mentioned that someone had told them what he had taken, and that this person was the one responsible for ruining his trip to oblivion. Rather rudely he grabbed the nurses arm, she had come quite near checking his monitors.  
John: What's his name? Who do I have to thank? Who is my "rescuer"?  
The nurse could hear the air quotes. She shook off his hand.  
Nurse: Well, I believe his name is Sherlock Holmes.


	2. Epilogue???

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John didn't die. Now what? Revenge?

"Where is he? Has he already left? Did he leave an address? Or a phone number?" John started to get up. But the nurse was having none of that. She put her hands on his shoulders attempting to push him back into the bed. "Hold on there dear! I cannot let you go yet, you only just woke up! We have to run tests and give you time to recover dearie, to sort out what was the problem." The nurse said with too much bloody compassion in her voice  
"Look lady. I'm fine. Or at least I would be if that idiot hadn't run into me like he was the bloody Orient Express!" But John stopped struggling. "Look I'm sure you are lovely and all I know you are just doing your job, but I am a doctor too. I spent years in Her Majesty's Army serving as a field doctor. I know what I took and I know the effects. It was supposed to give me a nice clean pop off to the King of Dreams, but because of that FUCKING BASTARD I am alive. I know what side effects to look for and now if you will just kindly unhand me..." John said through gritted teeth, making a fuming attempt at calm,. But it was too late the nurse was already inching toward the needle of anesthetic. Quickly and efficiently John knocked her upside the head with a firm and efficient blow. John hurried to catch her, it looked like those years of hand to hand combat in Basic was finally paying off, she was down for the count without any major harm done. John laid her out on the bed with a pillow under her head and an injection of light pain killer to help with her aching head. (He wasn't totally heartless).

After John had escaped from his room (retrieving his clothes from a dresser is his room) he stopped by the desk, risky but necessary, to see if the IDIOT BASTARD had left an address. The attendant looked bored out of her mind, fussing mindlessly with something on her computer screen. John was a rather good looking man when he wanted to be. He managed to pull a date out of just about anywhere he walked into, a hospital would just be one more on his list. Then again he probably looked exactly like someone who had just tried to commit suicide; somewhere between a half dead raccoon and a starving street urchin. All the same, when he walked up, he smiled down at the unwitting attendant with as much charm as he could muster. "Hello," he said in the most alluring voice he could manage, he sounded like he had been swallowing hot irons but then again, maybe this girl was desperate because it seemed to work. The girl looked up and immediately her face shifted to one of careful deduction, as though she was trying to determine if she could fit a lunch date into her 30 min break. "I was wondering if you would tell me who it was that saved my brother John. My name is Harry." The attendant assessed him over the rim of her glasses. She then tapped a few key on the key pad and intently read the screen, "Ummmm...Sir? Uh...Mam? It says here that you are Harriet Watson? John's sister?" Damn! Of course they would have pulled up his entire profile to see who his family was. "Er...yes. I am working on that." John laughed nervously, "I am hoping that he will eventually accept the fact that I prefer brother. But that stiff arsed....nevermind. Could you just tell me who it was that saved him? Do you have a number I can contact him at? I would like to thank them personally."  
"Well actually sir he didn't leave a number.... he is here rather frequently. If you like, I could give him your number when I see him next."  
"That would be splendid," John tried for another winning smile, it felt more like a grimace, but the girl brightened regardless, "your name is...?"  
"Molly Hooper, Mr. Watson." she smiled as she told him. Wow. This girl must be really desperate, or she had a thing for half-dead trans men. John gave her his number, and the girl, Molly?, blushed. John left the hospital to take a taxi home and contemplate how to get back at this "Sherlock Holmes" for ruining his suicide. Strangely he felt more alive than he had since returning from the war. He had purpose again.

(Unbeknownst to John, Molly would go on to wait at the desk posing as an attendant for the rest of that week hoping to meet "Harry" on his way to visit his "brother." Even though she was there when the nurse was found unconscious in the hospital bed.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am thinking about splitting the story. I am not sure when it will happen but I will try to let you know. There is a wonderful web comic by navydream on tumblr called Endless Dream. If I find a good place to switch, I will have two versions of the story running. One following a realistic plot of the series, and the other using ideas from the comic. Thoughts?


	3. A Very Molly Thing To Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Molly, this is hopeless, get a grip on yourself." -Molly Hooper

Molly rejoiced. She finally had a legitimate reason to talk to him! All those days scurrying quietly out of the morgue when he walked in because she was too shy. All the days she used any excuse to be the morgue. Especially after the day he brought his riding crop. (who has a riding crop anymore? did he ride?) All of her hard work was finally going to pay off. She could have a real conversation about something other than the insipid assistants doing autopsies. (really... those grad students had no idea how to handle a cadaver.) Granted the man she was going to be discussing would have been just another sad case, another suicide autopsy she would have to correct. Unless he had died in a particularly interesting way she would use to get him interested. (he had a fancy for the grim, mysterious, and obscure deaths that occasionally happened to come through her morgue. really it her morgue, she had worked there the longest) Molly practically skipped down the hall towards the morgue. She paused in her joy and turned briefly into the prep-room to grab her lab coat and lipstick.


	4. Vengeance is Best Served Slow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John plots...

John paced his room. He had been through so much. As a doctor he knew about the limits of the human body. He knew what would cause a human the most pain and how to balance pain with longevity. As a soldier he knew how to kill and strategize. He could be extremely efficient and beyond deadly if necessary. He needed to learn more about this Sherlock fellow. John needed to know his weaknesses, his hopes, his desires, what made him tick. Then he could start planning how to take Sherlock on and make him pay for what he did. John's life slowly began to take form again. He began doing research, finding out everything he could about Sherlock. (Turns out this guy was pretty big in the underground.) His name was on just about every major police case in the last 12 years. Surprisingly the man had no police file himself. Apparently he hadn't done anything wrong, ever. No parking tickets, or speeding tickets, no drunken over-nights at the station. Nothing. John kept looking. One of the first results he found, (by Googling Sherlock Holmes, because everyone has looked up someone's name on the internet at least once in their lives) was a website. The site was created by the man himself. Turns out the bastard liked an audience. He posted his random thoughts (as expository essays no less) and a few of his police escapades. The more John read about the guy the more he came to think he was a bleeding pansy. Granted, if the police reports were anything to go by he could handle himself and was well to moderately intelligent. All the same John, blinded by his own grievances, came to hate the man with an obsessive addiction. John began following Sherlock around town. When he actually left his home. Turns out the man never left his home unless it was absolutely necessary. So John did a lot of hanging around in the sandwich shop next to Sherlock's flat. The man in the shop had never seen nor even heard of Sherlock. This was disappointing because it was one more piece of proof just how little impact the man had on the world. No one seemed to know him. This made it hard for John to actually learn anything about him. So, he decided to take his "research" to a new level. 

"This is Baker Street apartments how may I help you?"  
"Yes. I was wondering if I could look at an apartment. You see I am in the market and am looking for something nice but at the same time not too expensive. Can you help me?" John continued the conversation under a pseudonym. Once he secured an appointment time with the land lord he moved on to the apartments on the other side of the street. These he decided to visit in disguise.  
Wearing a false mustache and wig he knocked on the door. It opened. To his surprise a grandmotherly lady opened the door. "Why hello dear. What can I do. for you?" John explained that he was looking for a place to settle down. "What is your name dear?"  
"Avery McGreggor, Ms...."  
"Hudson, dear. Do please, come in!" Mrs. Hudson led John into a small parlor on the first floor. "These are my rooms, what exactly were you looking for dear? I have an empty flat but let me tell you it is a hard room to live in, the man in flat B is known for driving his neighbors out I'm afraid."  
"I'm simply looking for a place to spend the rest of my days, coming back from the army I have nothing left to cling to. Anything will be perfect. Even the basement." John thought he might be laying it on a bit thick, although he truly didn't have much money and he really didn't have much of a family either, but it worked. Immediately the woman's face became one of concern. "Oh, dear. Well let me show you the flat. It is really quite unique. I am sure you will like it." John followed Mrs. Hudson up the stairs, he was careful to avoid all of the steps that squeaked as she stepped on them. It was not a good idea to alert Sherlock to the possibility that anyone was with Mrs. Hudson. 

221A was not a bad flat. It looked, to John, like it needed some one to live in it and put down roots. Everything was old and worn, in some case worn into a state of disrepair. However there were no left over magnets on the icebox, no pillows left on the worn armchair, and no faded rectangles that would have suggested there was once a portrait or a painting hanging on the expanse of out of date wallpaper.  
"I am sorry love that it has gotten this bad, everything down here can be cleaned before you move in, but no one has lived here for more than a month and the last tenants left 7 years ago." Mrs. Hudson looked downcast. "Sherlock really isn't very nice to anyone, but he gets better if you get to know him. He has had a hard time. But if you are still interested we can go down to the kitchen and discuss the particulars." Her kind face looked hopefully into John's. He beamed. "I would be delighted Mrs. Hudson, just lead the way." On the way back down, Mrs. Hudson chatted happily about her sister, John was careful to avoid creaky steps again, now that he was taking the flat it was crucial he met Sherlock on his terms. He had better get busy.

\----

After all of his time spent following Sherlock around, John had discovered that the man made regular, if infrequent, visits to Bartholomew's Hospital. John needed a reason to be there... He couldn't very well attempt suicide again. Then it hit him Stamford. He needed to see Mike Stamford again.


	5. The Name is Sherlock Holmes and the Address is 221B Baker St.

The last time John had seen Mike they had both been walking in the park near Bart's Hospital, but at that time John had not been paying attention to much of anything, let alone the name of some park. John couldn't see how it would be a good idea to simply wander around all the parks in central London. Mike had mentioned he was teaching.... but where?  
  
John walked in the employee entrance to hospital and immediately felt like he was coming home. It felt like a life time ago when a young aspiring med student had walked through these doors with the goal of becoming the best doctor, surgeon and army man he could possibly be. Life had seemed so simple then. John was overwhelmed, he had to pause and hold his breath to keep from crying. Finally he took a deep breath and continued on. He asked the security guard at the counter to contact Mike. Five minutes later, a beaming Mike came rushing down the stairs. "JOHN! How good to see you! How have you been? I was worried last time I saw you, you didn't look to good." John smiled. "It is good to see you too Mike, I was going though a bit of a rough patch, but I think things may be turning around. I am actually hoping you can help me with that." To be continued...

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work in progress. It is likely that if I ever have time I will add on to it. If I havent added in over 3 months message me (if you care.)


End file.
